


and hey, maybe we've fucked it all up again

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Eating Disorders, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Instability, Possibly Unrequited Love, Smoking, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, komaeda uses he/they pronouns, references to past suicide attempts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: but that’s the thing, isn’t it? he can talk to them all he wants, but he isn’t going to calm down. he’s not going to stop being afraid, or being fucked up, or fucking- or fucking losing his shit on everything, and there is only one goddamn person who gets that.one goddamn person who is more of a suicide case than hinata is.(hinata finds komaeda at the same bridge he always does, same hour. they try to talk about some things.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 6
Kudos: 104





	and hey, maybe we've fucked it all up again

they meet in the same location they always do-- bridge just off a park with some fucked-up history hinata can’t care to remember; the scent of something dead, almost, but it’s not like there’s any pedestrians around to confirm it; water rippling with a dark uncurrent that maybe a tsunami will sweep away the entire town and leave them with nothing; some wet metallic constructs over this endless damn river with absolutely nothing to say for it. it’s not a place hinata walks up to by choice,

but komaeda is always there, for some fucking reason. and for some _other_ fucking reason, hinata’s always looking for him.

komaeda’s got a cigarette. they’ve got a cigarette, ripped skinny jeans, and a dark-colored hoodie, their lips cherry red and _wet,_ eyes almost filled with desire as they stare down at the river. you know, like lustful suicidality, the trait that komaeda has written on every diagnosis they’ve received and every diagnosis they have _never,_

like three am calls on a payphone, komaeda giggling and explaining with a _for the melodrama, hinata-kun, like i’m waiting for my lover to come home!_ and then a hiccup, and then a hysterical sob, and then the therapy session like urban static, _but i don’t have anyone at home, hinata-kun, i don’t- i have nothing, i gave it all up, i- i fucked it up, i fucked it all up, and i’m going to- and if i kill myself, hinata-kun-_

the kind of shit that becomes a casualty, to hinata. 

thing is, hinata has other friends. hinata could call up nanami and skip work to go to a shitty arcade, sipping on sodas and watching her have at it, could actually fucking _breathe_ for once-- he could do that. he could also message kuzuryuu and souda, go to a theatre and spill the popcorn everywhere and have to give into the fact that, of course, _all_ of them cry at the sad parts, no matter how hardened they appear. he could hit up owari and nidai, take up the offer at the gym, could talk to sonia and tanaka about those tarot card readings and tea, could message _every single one of his friends_ and _fucking calm down._

but that’s the thing, isn’t it? he can talk to them all he wants, but he isn’t going to calm down. he’s not going to stop being afraid, or being fucked up, or fucking- or fucking losing his shit on everything, and there is only one goddamn person who gets that.

one goddamn person who is more of a suicide case than hinata is.

komaeda nagito. his not-acquaintance, not-friends-with-benefits, not-lover, but some kind of cross-section. the kind of person he would hit up when he just wants to listen to someone ramble about _seriously insane shit,_ and somewhere along the line, the two of them hit it off sexually, and now hinata has to deal with komaeda overdosing on his antidepressants monthly or komaeda knocking at his window on the third story, asking if he wants to grab some coffee. 

it makes shit exciting, for one. komaeda actually-- haha, komaeda actually _tells_ him once, funnily enough, that _if i stop being interesting to you, hinata-kun, i’ll kill myself then and there._ it was something hinata blew off, but he knew it was genuine, and he knew that in the end, he wouldn’t be able to do shit to stop it.

komaeda isn’t a complete asshole, is the thing. they’re a hell of a trainwreck, a fucked-up brat, an adrenaline chaser-- but komaeda _has_ ditched a party that they snuck into to pull hinata out and get fresh air; komaeda _has_ come around his house at five in the morning with shitty cookies to fight off the nightmares hinata had; komaeda _has_ allowed themself to be fucked and cuddled when hinata was completely fucking out of it. komaeda _has_ been there for hinata, _consistently_.

and hinata has been there too, in some fucking way. they met when komaeda was pretty much trying to off himself, and hinata walked in at the wrong time, and now komaeda looks at him with this almost _innocent_ gaze, telling him that hinata _saved_ them, and- and, hinata didn’t have a shit ton to say to _that._

doesn’t really matter, though. origins, that is. 

because komaeda is sitting on this bridge with a cigarette, like a serial killer’s ride or die, like they’re down to fuck or kill, and hinata walks his ass over and sits down beside them with a brash, “suicidal?”

komaeda laughs, this raspy thing that hinata finds sort of hot, sort of creepy, and replies lowly, “maybe. ask again later.”

“when you’re already dead,” hinata points out, because he knows that’s the part komaeda wanted him to point out.

komaeda giggles more. “of course.”

they fall back into silence, then. hinata debates the ethics of wrapping his arm around someone _that_ lonely and _that_ touch starved, only to say _i didn’t do it cuz i loved you, i did it cuz i didn’t want you to off yourself._ he can’t tease komaeda like that, because he isn’t sure when komaeda fell in love or if hinata even reciprocates, but it’s the kind of baggage that he can’t really shove on the other. like, _fuck you for doing this to me,_ but _i can’t really blame you, can i?_

(it fucks hinata up, sometimes, how komaeda will casually say, _i wouldn’t fall in love with me, either,_ and it’s not like hinata can really refute or assent to that, so he just watches as komaeda self destructs underneath him, and doesn’t say a damn word.)

something’s up with komaeda, though, like always. and curiosity kills the damn cat every time, even when he _knows,_ can _suspect_ \-- so hinata decides he’ll bite. “any particular reason, or?”

“you have friends, don’t you, hinata-kun?” and hinata sucks in a breath, so komaeda is quick to clarify, “i’m not being possessive, haha, i really don’t- i really don’t mind, i…”

“yeah.” hinata finally says. “i do. and you don’t. that’s what you’re getting at.”

“i think that even if i did have friends, i would just fuck them up.” komaeda laughs. he cusses a lot, but he still gives hinata the vibes that he shouldn’t, like some thirteen year old ex-faithful cursing god or something. _or something._ “i’m too unstable for it, i go from idolizing to hating-” and oh, does hinata _know that._ “-they would just hate me, i think. so i don’t think i should have friends. i dislike people but love them conceptually, and i simply think i should be hated.”

hinata just nods. “alright.”

komaeda’s gaze flickers, expression neutral and fallen for a few seconds. “... alright?”

“yeah. what else do you want me to say?”

they blink at him before they start laughing hysterically, shifting around to try and straddle hinata, and he has to directly push them off, “not in the mood, plus we’re fucking _outside._ ” they listen, going back to where they were sitting before, so _abruptly_ , but they look almost dazed as they sit there, aquiver.

they always look like a fucking illusion, and hinata doesn’t know how to snap them out of it.

(if they even should. who knows, maybe poking and prodding into all the bullshit that someone has assembled to, what, defend themselves? abandon themselves before other people can do it? hypersexualize all that they do? whatever it is, maybe if hinata presses too much, komaeda will fucking spill out like an overflowing bathtub and drown there.

he’s tried that twice. drowning in bathtubs, that is.

hinata shouldn’t have left him alone after they had sex, back on january 30th.)

they keep looking out at the water, biting their lip, hands shaking from the cold (or something, hinata’s just glad their knuckles aren’t bruised and their fingers aren’t blue). they start humming something, shit they heard on hinata’s radio back in may when they took a lot of car rides down to a beach with some cliffs, some upbeat, loud shit in a worn leather seat with bubble gum wrappers everywhere, skinny-dipping just so that they could get caught. it’s the kind of shit that feels picturesque; the kind of shit that made hinata fall out of love with romanticism and poetry and all those lies.

because no matter how many times they’ve kissed and no matter how many sunsets they’ve seen, hinata still feels like shit, and komaeda still wants to die. and it’s the ugliest fucking feeling on the planet, actually.

(like the guilt that festers in his stomach all the fucking time).

“you want to be alone,” hinata blurts out, a continuation of a conversation they were both happy to let die. “you resent people, so you want to be alone.”

komaeda tucks their knees to their chin. “sorta. i have a lot of grievances with the world, haha. y’know, i don’t think i ever told you… a few years ago, i still remember it, i would see this girl at this store. she worked there, really, and i went there for all the sort of shit you pick up at those sorts of places,” they explain with a small smile on their face. “she was kind to me. would let me skip out on paying things-- not that i’m really short in money-- would let me take extra, slipped me her number once and told me i could call her if i needed help. she became a constant in my life, and you know what i thought, hinata-kun?” they don’t pause for hinata’s response, knowing that the other knows to wait and let komaeda lay it out on their own. “i thought she was the most pathetic person i had ever met. i hated her-- and oh, i loved her, too. i praised her and sought out that store to see her-- but i _loathed_ her. she was the reason i would stop eating dinner, sometimes; she was the reason i would. and she never even knew a thing about me.” komaeda laughs sadly. “isn’t that funny? she didn’t know a thing.”

hinata reaches out to grab their hand, pulling it so that it rests in hinata’s pockets. komaeda’s laugh sounds even more despondent, increasing in volume. “and, and for all that kindness she gave me, y’know what happened?” 

“she died in some freak accident?” hinata guesses, knowing the game.

komaeda’s smile is coy and numb. “store burnt down on her shift.”

hinata just nods, stroking komaeda’s hand with his fingers as the other giggles, shoulders shaking as they lament the loss of someone they never really knew. it fucking sucks, that so many people left them, but there’s not much hinata can say to that. he can’t promise he’ll stick around-- he has no _plans_ of leaving komaeda behind, not really, but both of them know that komaeda is almost an incarnation of all the shit hinata doesn’t want to process, and even once hinata gets better, komaeda won’t. they still feel like such a _dream,_ and hinata can’t _tie himself to that,_ and- and what? what is done, then? he can’t just send them off, say _fuck it, that’s the world’s problem,_ without expecting an update to the local obituary.

komaeda has never held hinata’s lack of commitment against him. it’s all just repeated acts of perjury he has to take onto himself.

“i’m not going to burn down,” hinata lies, then, and he can tell komaeda doesn’t believe him and it only makes him _more desperate._ “i’m not going to burn down; i’m going to fucking live, and i’m going to stick by your side even when every other person has up and left, and i’m not going to fucking leave. i won’t. and- and you can hate me, you can,” he feels like a firecracker burning out too soon, komaeda the rain to stifle him, “but i’ll still be there. yeah?”

they are quiet for a long moment, looking at hinata with conflict in their grey eyes. and then, a smile, sad and tapered and ingenuine, and they whisper, “i love you, hinata-kun. good luck.”

“i mean it,” hinata presses, squeezing his hand. “i mean it.”

his hand slips out of hinata’s pocket, tapping along the edges of the bridge, their lips a little more chapped and their veins a little more blue in the sudden shift of light. and as quiet as ever, as unbelieving as ever, they reply, “i know.”

they fall back into silence, watching the water on the bridge, hinata taking assured relief in the fact that they haven’t died yet (that maybe, if he keeps pushing, he’ll say that every day, long enough until komaeda finds some reason to live on their own). it’s cold, and they’re cold, but hinata still doesn’t wrap his arms around their waist, still just sits there, waiting, waiting.

and sometimes, he wonders how long the two of them can wait before they fall apart.

(he remembers once, back in a biting autumn-- the way that komaeda’s ribs move, the contours of their body, the coquettish giggle they still have left in them-- the way that they turned to look at hinata, cheek and hair pressed against the pillow, and told him,

_this is a mistake, isn’t it? someone like you, abjectly nothing but so wonderful nonetheless, falling in lust with someone like me? when i sink like the ink of fallen, dead poets, and you must know that, hinata-kun, must be aware of that even when you’re touching me, making me yours. and then i wonder, and i do wonder this quite a lot, hinata-kun, if we’ve ever done a good thing at all. maybe we’re broken, or maybe we’re messed up-- and hey, maybe we’ve fucked it all up again. wouldn’t that make sense?_

and even with all the hatred and guilt and remnant romantics in his bones, hinata can’t say it wouldn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking a lot, lately, i suppose.
> 
> stay safe, everyone. xx


End file.
